Being Emily (18 page)

We were meeting Patric and he was taking us for lunch. My da had put on a tie and a light-coloured jacket I couldnae mind him wearing afore. It hung on his shoulders. Mona and
Rona were in their best jeans with glittery belts and bags. Mona’s bump was huge noo and her shiny top barely covered it. Declan was his usual pristine self.

When I came in the living room, Rona pointed at the scarf round my hair.
Christ Fiona, you look like you’re about tae clean
the hoose
.

I shrugged.

You’re like wanny they women in the land army in the second
world war, hen
.

Didnae know you were that auld, Da
.

Very funny – ah was born in 1950 as you well know. I’ve seen
photies of them with their hair tied back wi a scarf wearing flowery
pinnies like that
.

It’s no a flowery pinny, it’s a
…

Never mind hen, you look very nice
. He turned to the twins.
Yous all look very nice. Now let’s go or we’ll be late
.

We had lunch in the restaurant of Patric’s hotel, a light and airy place with glass tables and huge displays of lilies. There was a buffet laid out with lovely salads, roast meats and poached salmon.

You can have something hot if you prefer
, said Patric when we were all seated,
but I think this is nice on a warm day, and you
can always go for seconds
.

Once we’d chosen, I looked round the table. Patric’s plate was tasteful; a little salmon, a wafer-thin slice of roast beef, salads of various kinds – bulgar wheat, caesar – laid out as elegantly as the floral displays in the room. My da had solid helpings of roast beef, potato salad, tomato salad and lettuce, all separated on his plate. Mona and Rona took huge helpings of the cooked meats, a tiny amount of tomato with the dressing scraped aff and a daud of potato salad. On Declan’s plate was
a triangular pile of food which he would nae doubt eat his way through, silently as he usually did. In fronty me was a small portion of everything, not artistically arranged, just there, mindlessly. I wondered if all families were this different. Or did no one else ever look at the way their family ate.

Everyone was on their best behaviour and though Patric ordered some wine my da only had one glass. We talked about Mona’s baby, and Patric’s work. Anyone looking at us would of thought we were having a nice family lunch out. Which of course we were.

After lunch Declan, Mona and Rona were off to the movies and Da decided tae join them. After they’d left, Patric led me to a table in the windae at the front of the hotel. You could watch the madness of a Saturday in Glasgow, cocooned fae the noise. Patric ordered coffee and the waiter brought us a cafetière.

Patric leaned back in the upholstered chair, crossed his legs.

Da’s looking a bit better
.

He’s awful thin
.

Aye, but he ate a good meal. And he only had one glass of wine
.

He’s no been drinking much recently
.

That’s good
.

He pressed the plunger on the cafetière, poured the coffee. We sipped in silence for a few minutes then Patrick put doon the cup and saucer.

Fiona, there’s something we need to talk about
.

Shoot
.

I meant to tell you about it before but … it’s not really something
you can talk about easily on the phone
.

What is it?

Last week, when Amrik answered the phone, and I said that he
and I were friends
.

Uhhuh
.

Well, actually, we’ve become very close. More than just friends
.

At first I was just utterly, utterly confused.

But Amrik’s not
… I paused.

He is
. Patric lifted a teaspoon aff the table and placed it in the saucer.
I mean, obviously he’s bisexual
.

Obviously
.

Patric turned tae face me, took baith my haunds in his.
Fiona, I feel really bad about this. I know that you and Amrik went
out for a while but I never thought it was serious – you were always
quite casual about it
.

I know. It’s no your fault – it’s just – a shock
.

I mean, you weren’t serious, were you?

No
.

Clearly, however close they were, Amrik hadnae tellt Patric about what happened. Mibbe he’d forgotten or mibbe, with his total lack of interest in anything other than what was going on at the moment, he didnae think it was important.

Thank God for that
. He let go my haunds.
I mean, I know it
is a bit … well …

I didnae say anything.

Complicated
.

Good word. Very good.

I mean, you and Jas, you and Amrik, me and Amrik
.

You don’t need tae spell it out
.

Fiona, are you okay?

I don’t know. I really don’t know
.

You see, if it wasn’t important to me I would never have let it
happen. If it had been something casual, I wouldnae want to hurt
your feelings or make things awkward. You and me have always been
so close, flesh and blood. If it had been casual …

But it’s no
.

No
.

He looked out the windae.
I’ve never felt like this for anyone,
Fiona
.

And Amrik?

I’m not sure – it’s early days
. He turned and smiled, no the nice wallpaper smile I’d seen so often with his pals in London, a smile that came from inside.
We’re just very happy thegether
.

I didnae want to but I had to. I wasnae sure if I was daeing it from pure motives or if the mixed-up mess that was inside me had spewed it out.

Be careful, Patric. I mean, Amrik is … well, he loves his freedom
.

I don’t have a problem with that
.

I just don’t want you to get hurt
.

Patric stood, pulled me up on my feet and hugged me very tightly.

Don’t you worry, wee sis. Don’t you worry
.

I caught the subway home like a zombie, chucked mysel on my bed and lay there, unable to dae anything. The room felt even smaller than usual; I stretched out to the sides and touched the walls without moving. They felt synthetic and if you pushed your fingers hard enough intae them you could make indentations – God knows what material they used tae build these wee boxes. The late afternoon sun stippled the far end of the right wall and I watched a bluebottle chase its shadow across it. The windae was open a crack at the bottom and it kept trying tae escape and failing, buzzing off to the patch of light, perhaps thinking it was another exit. I could not make mysel get up to open the windae and shoo it; my heid was full of its own buzzing insects unable to find their way out.

I tried tae assemble them in some kind of order, line them
up in wee insect regiments but they just stayed in a guddle that didnae make sense. Patric and Amrik, Amrik and me, me and Jas. I lay watching the light fade on the wall, till I eventually dropped off to sleep, waking only when I heard the voices of my da and the twins, returning fae the movies.

How was the wedding?

Marie leaned over me, stuck her key in the till and opened it. A man with a basket full of dogfood drew daggers at her.

We’ll just be a moment, sir
. Marie started tae bag the money.

Oh
… I’d forgotten I’d said I was going to a wedding.
Fine
.

Late night, eh?
She patted my shoulder.
You can go off for your
tea in ten minutes, hen. I’ll send Jo over
.

During the break I went out for some fresh air, bought a carryout coffee and stood in fronty the wee paper shop. The moment I’d been putting off. I had tae find somewhere to live, couldnae keep staying at my da’s after the baby was born. A few weeks ago Miss Starkey had muttered about getting Mona a flat but she didnae want that, at least no right away, and my da wouldnae hear of it. Janice didnae think it was a good idea either.
I think Mona needs security and family round
her at this time
.

She kept dropping hints about me sharing with other students, gied me cuttings about student flats.

They’ve got these modern places now, Fiona. Your own flat but
with other folk around, security doors and everything. Something like
that would be really nice
.

I don’t think so
.

I’d seen the ads too. Urban student living. Purpose-built blocks thrown up on wasteground on the fringes of real areas. With fako names. I passed one on my way to the Art School each day, surrounded by tenements and multistoreys – they’d
called it Ciao as if it was a restaurant or something. The ads were full of photies of trendy – but not too trendy in case it put off the mas and das who’d be paying for it – young folk all laughing thegether. Hopping in and out of each other’s Ikea-furnished boxes.

Janice didnae gie up easily.
What about the residences?

They only have places for first years
.

Oh well, you’ll just need tae look for a flatshare
. She laughed.
Actually it’s quite exciting. I can still remember the first time I moved
into a flat
.

If I was gonnae dae it this was the best time, afore everyone came back for the start of term. The windae of the shop was plastered with ads, some neatly word-processed, some barely-literate scrawls. I scanned through them, made a list of possibles and put the paper in my pocket. I’d call them after I finished work.

CLYTEMNESTRA IS EATING
only yellow foods this month: egg yolks, sweetcorn, yellow peppers, lemons, grapefruit, butter and saffron rice.

I’m balancing my chakras
, she says, pulling her messages fae a Somerfield bag.
My therapist thinks my aura is lacking in yellow
. She took a Polaroid snap fae her backpack and haunded it to me. Her sat staring at the camera with all these swirly patterns round her, as if a wean had scrawled on it wi felties.

Look
, she says, pointing.
Too much blue here
.

Clytemnestra isnae her real name. She used tae be Caroline; that’s the name on the official mail that drops on the doormat made of ecologically sound something or another that sheds jaggy hairs all over the place. She’s a lumpy lassie wi bad skin and stringy hair, and it’s her flat, well her parents bought
it for her when she came tae uni. They live in Kent and she was supposed tae be gaun tae Edinburgh but ended up in Glasgow.

There’s five of us; Eric and Sanj are engineers and Nicole is a music student at the RSAMD. I managed tae pass the interview with Clytemnestra even though I’m no a vegetarian. She even made me a cup of nettle tea.

There’s something about your presence, Fi. It’s like, the flat is a
canvas, an abstract painting, an apparently random pattern of colours
and shapes. But if you take the blue and make it green, it just doesn’t
work. Or if the shade of orange doesn’t balance the purple – well,
you’ll understand, being an artist
.

I hadnae a scooby what she was on about but she seemed harmless and, anyway, she was gonnae be my landlady, so I had to be polite.

Are you an artist too? Did you no say you were studying Languages?

She chucked the teabag in the orange bin.
Society is too
caught up with putting us in little boxes – you go to Art School so
you’re an artist, Nicole goes to the RSAMD so she is a musician. It’s
just not a holistic way of life
.

Uhhuh
.

I follow the Artist’s Way. Have you read it?

No
.

You should, Fi. I’m sure you’d find it illuminating. It’s about
nurturing your inner artist
.

Right
.

Even though Clytemnestra sounded as if she was talking pish maisty the time, what she said about the folk in the flat made sense when I got tae know them a bit. There was certainly a balance of energies between us. Eric’s a wee guy with cropped dark hair who works out till his muscles are like gnarled old
tree trunks, Sanj is smiley and laid back and Nicole is tall and elegant looking, dead intense about her music and deadly quiet about everything else. Where I fitted in I’d nae idea but Clytemnestra obviously seen me as the missing link.

My room was the smallest but even so it was about four times as big as the box I’d been sleeping in at my da’s. Tenements feel bigger; the high ceilings and tall windaes make space and light, especially since we’re on the top flair wi a view across hauf the city. The living room was massive and the kitchen big enough for us to eat in. The only downer was that the ‘ideal location’ in the advert turned out to be just round the corner fae where our auld house was. So, even though it took longer, I always went the other way, unable tae face passing it.

It was weird sharing a flat with strangers but we rubbed along fine, barring the odd argument about using up all the hot water or whose turn it was tae buy milk. I guess all flatmates have these ridiculous conversations:

Eric: (accusingly) Why is the cheese on the bottom shelf in the fridge?

Me: Does it matter?

Eric: I think it’s better if we have some organisation here. Cheese on the top shelf, other stuff in the middle, vegetables in the bottom, milk and juice in the door.

Me: Oh, cool.

Eric was positively militaristic about the kitchen and got really pissed about food being out of place in the fridge. He bought a large bottle of anti-bacterial cleaner and placed it accusingly in the middle of the kitchen table.

I was laid back about replacing the spices in alphabetical order, but couldnae bear the bathroom being dirty. I couldnae understaund how someone who checked the fridge thermometer every
day seemed unable to turn round after he’d used the toilet and realise it needed cleaned and that the green stuff in the bottle shaped like a duck was for that purpose. Or that it wasnae very nice to have tae clean someone else’s hair out the plughole. The twins were dead messy too, but somehow it was different when it was your ain family.

I moaned about it to Janice one day. After letting me rant for a while about Eric, she said,
What about the others?

Nicole’s all right. Clytemnestra’s idea of cleaning is burning joss
sticks. And I don’t think Sanj would notice if you redecorated the
entire flat while he was in it
.

Why don’t you all sit down and talk about it? You could be responsible
for cleaning the bathroom and Eric the kitchen. And the others
could do something else. It’s best if everybody knows where they stand,
otherwise you can end up with a lot of resentment
.

She was right, of course. I’d already started to seethe with hatred towards Eric every time I seen his razor on the side of the bath, nasty wee hairs stuck tae it like beasties, and I’m sure he felt the same way about me when I placed Paprika on the shelf after Turmeric. So we had a big, clear-the-air session one night, decided who done what, then went out to the pub.

Next morning I found Sanj sitting at the table with a big sheet of paper and a packet of felt-tipped pens. He looked up at me and smiled,

Hi. What colour d’you want to be?

Sorry?

What colour? For the list
.

List?

Of chores. I’m gonnae write out who does what and stick it on
the wall and I thought I’d do it in different colours. Pick a colour
. He waved the felties at me.
Any one except lilac. It’s no working
.

I looked at the pack. It was one of they cheapies you get in Bargain Books, in a clear plastic pack, colours spread out in the order of the spectrum, with grey, brown and black at one end.

Or red. I thought Eric should be red
.

How?

Well he’s kind of red, isn’t he? Direct, go for it, active
.

I’d never thought of Sanj paying any attention tae what people were like, let alone what colour they corresponded to. I was intrigued.

So what colour d’you think I should be?

I think, essentially, you’re a green person
.

I laughed.
You sound like Clytemnestra. What is an essentially
green person?

He took the green feltie out of the pack and started to shade the corner of the paper with it, giving it his full attention.

Green’s like nature. Trees and leaves and all that
.

I had a funny feeling, slightly shivery inside, close to tears. The only bit of nature I felt like these days was jaggy nettles. Then I noticed something.

Sanj! Where d’you get that paper?

He kept on colouring in the corner.

Out of that big folder thing you left in the hall
.

That’s the best cartridge paper I can afford – could you no of
used a bit of scrap?

He looked genuinely surprised.
Sorry. I’ll buy you another bit
if you like
.

You couldnae stay angry with him.

It’s cool. Want a coffee?

I filled the kettle at the sink. I’d put three pots of geraniums in the recessed windae sill – red, pink and white. Maisty
their petals were still curled up, like rolls of tissue paper. I pulled off a few dead heids and rubbed my thumb across a leaf, fuzzy like peach-skin. The scent filled my nose, making it tickle.

I turned round. Sanj had finished shading the corner in green and was drawing red wiggly lines round the side of the page.

What colour are you, Sanj?

Lilac. That’s why the lilac pen is done
.

So you cannae be lilac
.

I can still be lilac, but the marks I write won’t show up on the
page. So
…

So
…

I won’t have to do any chores
.

I threw the teatowel at him.